The Lament's Of A Weak Minded Child
by desdemona16
Summary: Meet Medea Malfoy, daughter of the famous Draco Malfoy. Follow her as she first arrives to Hogwarts, meeting new people, making new enemies, and most importent of all, bringing back the Dark Lord Voldemort.
1. Prologue

The Lament's Of A Weak-Minded Child Prologue  
  
The night was dark. Not a single star or cloud could be found in the sky. All that could be heard was the screaming of a woman in pain.  
  
Tonight, Pansy was giving birth to the first child conceived by Draco Malfoy and herself.  
  
They had been trying to conceive for a very long time, and now it was finally happening. But Draco was worried. He should have felt excited, but all he felt was despair. Draco knew that it was going to be a very difficult birth. He had heard Pansy's screams of agony, her pleas for help, and her wish for relief. He wanted to help her, to make all her pain go away. But he knew that he could not do that. It seemed as though all would be lost because of the birth of one child.  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"Push Pansy!" the auburn-haired Brittany instructed as Pansy gripped her hand tightly.  
  
"I can't!" Pansy hissed through clenched teeth.  
  
"What's happening to Pansy?" Laurietta asked in concern, smoothing Pansy's hair from her forehead. "Why won't the baby come out?"  
  
"I don't know, Laurietta," Dr Finland replied, exhausted. "I believe that we will have to do surgery."  
  
"But that can't be true! I thought that Pansy would have an easy birth!" Protested Laurietta, her blonde curls bouncing in indignation.  
  
"Something has gone wrong. I can't tell you what, because I do not know, myself!"  
  
"Have you told Mr Malfoy?"  
  
"I was just about to. He will have to make a choice."  
  
"What kind of choice?''  
  
"Who he wants to live through this.''  
  
"Don't tell me that's possible!" "Yes, Laurietta, it is possible. We have no other way.''  
  
Laurietta gave one last look at Pansy before nodding. "But you must promise me, Dr. Finland, that Pansy will live through this."  
  
"I cannot promise you what I don't know."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Draco Malfoy was pacing impatiently in the waiting room as he wondered what the results were. Would the baby be a boy or a girl? Judging by the intensity of Pansy's shrieks, he should be thinking about whether it would come out alive or not!  
  
He remembered when Pansy told him that she was pregnant. He couldn't say that it was the best time of his life, but after contemplating the matter for several weeks, watching gifts of tiny clothes and pretty toys from friends and family pour into their home, he could easily say that he was looking forward to finally holding the new little life in his arms.  
  
If someone had told him while he was still a sulky teenager that he would be anticipating the birth of his first child in a few years time, he would have laughed in their face and told them not to talk rubbish. For he did not expect to have children; they were nothing but trouble and a waste of money, time, and energy. He could be employed in better things, after all. And he was only marrying Pansy because of his father.  
  
Draco was the only one that could uphold the Malfoy name and he was expected to do so. He didn't love Pansy, and Pansy didn't love him. That was no secret. The marriage was mostly built on duty and honour. And nobody had told him that a child would be needed.  
  
But Draco had grown in his emotions. He still seemed cold and guarded to most people he met, but not as scornful and mean as before. The hard shell of hate that had been spun around him like a cocoon was falling away and leaving the raw vulnerable core. And all that because of a baby.  
  
For the whole nine months, he had taken as much care of Pansy as it was in his ability to do, surprising even himself with his devotion. But the minuscule life that was steadily growing inside Pansy had also been made by him, and it was as much a part of his life as it was of Pansy's. And he decided that he would make this child's life as much unlike his own as was possible, without the dark secrets, the derision, the hurt.  
  
He knew that fatherhood would be the biggest event that would ever happen during the long years of his existence, and that a whole heap of responsibility would be awarded to him when the child was born. But he didn't mind. He wanted responsibilities. And he wanted love. He had long ago understood that there could be no love between Pansy and himself, and the only thing left was their child. He would have to be the one the child loved the most, the one it would turn to for help, for love, for understanding. There was no one else who would do that.  
  
As he paced, mulling this over in his mind, Dr Finland suddenly appeared right before his eyes. "Mr Malfoy," Dr Finland said in a serious voice. "We have important matters to discuss."  
  
"What types of matters?" Draco asked, annoyed.  
  
"Mrs Malfoy is having problems delivering the baby."  
  
"And what does that mean?"  
  
"She might not be able to give birth."  
  
"What?! You're one of the best doctors in the wizarding world! Are you telling me that you cannot save my wife and child?"  
  
"That is exactly what I am saying, Mr Malfoy." A silence reigned between the old weary doctor and the shocked Draco. "Don't you dare disappointment me Finland!" Draco managed to choke out. "I could have you killed!"  
  
"Mr Malfoy, please keep your temper down."  
  
"If my wife and child die, I will have your head on a platter, Finland," Draco warned.  
  
Dr. Finland instantly paled. "I will do the best that I can, Mr Malfoy. That is all that I can guarantee."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
"It seems that while you were gone, Pansy was able to make one more push," Laurietta replied breathlessly.  
  
"Was that enough?" Dr Finland asked, pulling another pair of gloves on.  
  
"Enough to see the baby's head," answered Laurietta hopefully.  
  
"Laurietta, do you honestly think that Pansy will live to have this baby?" The doctor frowned sceptically at the witch.  
  
"Well, I hope so. I can't wish for bad things to happen."  
  
"Yes, I understand what you mean. I, too, want Pansy to live. She's such a good girl."  
  
"Pansy? A good girl?"  
  
"She's good deep down in her heart, Laurietta. All you needed to do was get to know her," chided the doctor gently.  
  
"I preferred not to."  
  
The doctor heaved another sigh, more wearier than the last. "Stubborn to your death, aren't you Laurietta? Well, we can't bicker all day. We must try and deliver this baby before it's too late."  
  
"Yes, I suppose so. Hopefully, the gods are in our favour." ~ ~ ~  
  
"All you need to do is push one more time, Pansy, and the baby will be out," Dr. Finland said while calmly stroking the witch's hair.  
  
"Will I die?" Pansy asked dazedly.  
  
"No, Pansy. All you have to do is stay awake long enough to have the baby, and then everything will be OK."  
  
"Is Draco here? I need to see him ... "  
  
"Draco is outside the door. Relax Pansy. Everything will be all right. Now all you have to do is push and it will be over,'' Dr. Finland urged.  
  
"Just push, Pansy. That's all you have to do," echoed Brittany, clasping Pansy's hand tighter. Pansy took a deep breath, pushed one last time, and the baby came out crying.  
  
"It's alive!" Laurietta exclaimed joyfully.  
  
"Alive?" Pansy repeated in an exhausted voice. "Is it finally over?"  
  
"Yes, it's over, Pansy. I know that you will be a wonderful mother." Pansy smiled before sleep over took her. "Doctor, are you sure that it's all right to let her sleep?'' Brittany asked worriedly.  
  
"Why wouldn't it be?"  
  
"Because she might not wake up!" Dr. Finland instantly whirled around to Pansy and deposited the baby into Brittany's arms, placing one hand on Pansy's forehead and the other on her neck where her pulse ought to have been. But her eyes were closed, and her skin a deathly white.  
  
The doctor hung his head and murmured, "She's cold. She's gone."  
  
"No! This cannot be!" Brittany cried. "You were supposed to save her!"  
  
"I did all that I could," protested Dr Finland, with bitterness apparent in his voice. "You should be grateful that the baby lived."  
  
"How will you tell this to Draco?" inquired Laurietta, turning her head to the dark window so her own grief would not be noticed.  
  
"The way that I told it to you - honestly."  
  
~ ~ ~  
  
Draco stared motionlessly at Dr. Finland before he finally spoke in a surprisingly calm tone. "I knew that this would happen. I knew it since the first day I married Pansy. I had a feeling that she couldn't have children, but I stayed with her only to please my father, everyone knows that.  
  
"But I thought you loved her ... "  
  
"I did love her! I loved her as a friend. We knew that we could never really be in love each other though."  
  
The doctor sighed again. He seemed to be doing it a lot lately. "You are in grief, Mr Malfoy. But the pain will eventually recede."  
  
"I have a daughter that will help me get out of it. I somewhat wanted a boy, but ... this will be my last child," Draco said with finality.  
  
"Heir to the Malfoy name, I presume?"  
  
"You presume correctly, doctor. I have enough sense to let a daughter take over; I won't try and have another child so that it can be a boy. I am happy with what I have."  
  
"A wise decision, if I may say so. What will you name her?"  
  
Draco thought a moment, trying to remember. "Medea Gertruedes Malfoy," he said after a moment's rumination.  
  
"Very unique."  
  
"Well, I want Medea to stand out from the rest. "  
  
"That she will do," muttered the doctor to himself. Then louder, "Would you like to hold her?"  
  
For the first time that night, Draco smiled. A genuine warm smile; one of the very few that he had ever divulged in his life. "I would love to. And I'll tell you something, doctor," he said, pausing. "If there's one thing that I will do as hard as I can, it is raise this child in a way as unlike my own upbringing as possible."  
  
The doctor smiled too, placing the little girl in Draco's arms. "I am happy to hear that, Mr Malfoy."  
  
"And so am I ... " whispered Draco, holding his child close to his chest, his eyes fixed on the single star that chose to come out into the inky sky that night.  
  
It flashed red, blue, white, like a minuscule reusable firework, as though celebrating the birth of tiny Medea Gertruedes Malfoy, who reached a small pink hand upto the same star. And, as Draco eyes followed the little hand, it seemed to grasp the sparkling star in her fist and draw it down to her grey blanket, down to earth. ~~~~~  
  
End Of Prologue  
TBC. 


	2. Misery Hates Company

The Lament's Of A Weak-Minded Child  
Chapter One: Misery Hates Company  
  
"Medea!" Draco greeted his daughter. "I am happy that you could make it."  
  
Medea pushed her straggly black hair out of her gray eyes, sighing. Even though she had missed her father while he was away on business in Russia, she had a feeling that he didn't really want her there. She looked him over. He had aged pleasantly over the years, he being only thirty-four. Just the thought of not seeing him again for a long time caused her chest to hurt. All she could hope for was that he really wanted her back in the first place.  
  
She gave him a small smile. "I can never disappoint you, Father. Not even if I tried."  
  
Draco took Medea's hand and squeezed it gently. "Yes, you are such a good girl. Always striving to succeed, eh?"  
  
"You taught me much of what I know. And shouldn't you be thanking the gods that I didn't turn out like all those other wizarding brats, rolling around with Mudblood filth?"  
  
Draco laughed mirthlessly. "Oh yes, you are my child indeed. And you will be meeting with some of those brats and Mudbloods soon enough."  
  
Medea raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Shipping me off to a boarding school? Why so late?"  
  
"Because you were not of the right age before. And now that you are, you have three choices."  
  
"I have a say in this matter?"  
  
"But of course, child! It's not my choice to make. You will be attending the school for seven years, not I."  
  
"Well then, what are my choices?"  
  
"Durmstrang Institute in Bulgaria, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic in France, or my personal favourite, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."  
  
"Didn't you go to Hogwarts, Father?"  
  
"Too true, Medea. I had the great honour of going to school with the wonderful, brilliant, magnificent Harry Potter," muttered Draco, his usually placid eyes spitting sparks.  
  
"Harry Potter can never be greater than the Dark Lord. You told me so yourself."  
  
"When you go to school, Medea, be careful with whom you speak of the Dark Lord with," reminded Draco. "The fear of his name is even worse now than it was before!"  
  
"You scare too easily, Father."  
  
"No, my dear, I fear for your safety."  
  
"Don't. I can take care of myself easily enough. Dark Magic still exists, doesn't it?"  
  
"Medea! Am I a parrot in your eyes? I have told you countless times that you are not to become involved in that before you are of a suitable age!" hissed Draco, both outraged and amazed.  
  
"But I am, Father!" Medea protested vehemently. " Any Malfoy worth his money has enough power to bring the Dark Lord back to power successfully."  
  
"Medea, calm down! You know how you are when you get over-excited!" Draco patted his daughter's arm. ''I don't want you to pass out again. We need a way to figure out what disease you have that is making you this way.''  
  
"I'm fine! You don't have to fuss about me!" assured Medea, wrenching herself out of her father's grip and standing a couple of feet away.  
  
Draco sighed tiredly. "We have competition, Medea, and of the highest kind. I have done my part to keep up the power of the Malfoy name, and now it's upto you."  
  
At this, Medea raised her eyes to Draco's, a fierce determination sketched all over her face. Noticing her interest, Draco continued, "Do you remember the Mortimers?"  
  
"Liar!" pronounced Medea, hoarsely. "They'd never take our place ... ''  
  
"They try, and they will succeed if we let them." Draco paused for a moment, thinking hard. "They have a son ... Xavier ... he's about your age ... "  
  
"Don't tell me I have to become friends with him!"  
  
"No ... but be wary of him ... and don't let him know that you're aware of him. Be cunning, find out things about him, use them to your advantage. 'Know thine enemy', my dear."  
  
Medea stood silent, contemplating the matter. "If he's the same age as me, he's going to start school soon."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"What school is he attending then?"  
  
"Hogwarts, from what I've heard," Draco supplied, watching his daughter carefully.  
  
"Then it's Hogwarts for me as well. I will not let the Mortimers succeed, nor anyone else who wants to beat us," said Medea, a strange light shining in her eyes. "They will fear us more than fear itself!"  
  
"Yes, you are indeed my daughter. A true Malfoy, if I may say so." Medea rolled her eyes in reply, the curious light extinguished.  
  
~ ~  
  
The curious light that had shone in Medea's eyes was an example of Medea herself. She was a most peculiar child, and not just because of her mysterious ailment. Medea believed that power was everything. She had been taught to believe it ever since she was a baby, when her father used to tell her that she could achieve great things if she only wanted to. And she believed him ever since then.  
  
She wanted to make her father truly proud of her, of something that she'd done to uphold the Malfoy honour. She would be the one to make the Malfoy name feared again. All of those other wizarding families who believed that they were better than the Malfoys would grovel at her feet. Never again would they believe that. And she would not let one single problem mess up her plans. She knew that she would be sorted into Slytherin house when she went to Hogwarts. Every Malfoy of the British Isles had borne the green and silver Slytherin badge on his or her robes. Malfoys did not fit in with Gryffindors, who were too rash and stupid; Malfoys did not fit in with Ravenclaws, who lacked ambition; and Malfoys certainly did not fit in with Hufflepuffs, who were as much unlike Malfoys as was possible.  
  
Medea had all the qualities of a true Slytherin: cunning, ambition, determination, resourcefulness. And she also had the talent of manipulation ... she knew how to bend people to her will without even using magic. She knew much more then an eleven-year-old girl should have known.  
  
And she knew that she had many powerful allies on the Dark Side, the Dark Lord Voldemort among them. She never let people take advantage of her until she had done so to them. If there were a book of power, she would be on the front cover.  
  
But Medea didn't boast. Like her father, she told the truth even if no one wanted to hear it. Truth was a powerful weapon, she knew. It could bring down the mightiest kings, the strongest of empires, the best of the best. Just like a simple lie handled well.  
  
Soon, she would be making her way to Hogwarts. Soon ... They wouldn't know what hit them. ~ ~ "Father, has my Hogwarts letter arrived yet?" inquired Medea impatiently, a week later.  
  
"No, Medea. Surely you'd think that I'd tell you if it did?" answered her father. "You know, Medea, you surprised me when you chose to go to Hogwarts. I would have guessed that you would want to go to Durmstrang."  
  
"I heard that they practice Dark Magic there. Is it true?"  
  
"But of course! Durmstrang is the finest Dark Arts school in all of Europe. Although, if the Dark Lord decided to make a school himself, it would beat even Durmstrang!"  
  
But Medea was not in the mood to hear of what the Dark Lord could have accomplished. Her mind was too full of her own plans to hear of what could have been of an old evil overlord. "When do you think that it will arrive Farther?"  
  
"Dear me, Medea, you are impatient," smirked Draco. "But after all, you are not made out to be a Hufflepuff. We will find out the truth when you get to Hogwarts. And you will receive the letter tonight."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Because I am holding it in my hand."  
  
Medea sighed in exasperation. "Well, what does it say?"  
  
"You've got eyes in your head. Read for yourself," said Draco, tossing the heavy envelope to his daughter. She caught it, and read:  
  
HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY  
Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump,  
International Confed. of Wizards)  
  
Dear Miss Malfoy,  
We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books  
and equipment.  
Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later  
than 13 July.  
  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress  
  
Medea laughed hysterically, causing Draco to frown at her in alarm. "That old crab still teaches at Hogwarts, does she?"  
  
"It seems so," muttered Draco, still gazing at Medea worriedly. "It's a shame, because I really hated her. She was always sticking up for Potty, Weasel, and Mudblood Granger."  
  
"Potty? Weasel? Mudblood Granger?"  
  
"My antagonists when I was growing up. Remember?"  
  
"Yes, yes. But what names you use for them! Couldn't you have picked something more scathing? I thought your tongue was supposed to be made of barbed wire!"  
  
Draco laughed heartily. "Oh no, my dear. That is you."  
  
"Well, couldn't you have used something less immature? Something that would hit closer to home?"  
  
Draco sighed and looked up into Medea's face. "Darling Medea, you are too old for your age."  
  
Medea stared back at Draco, suddenly feeling jaded to the core. "I grew up fast, Father. I never did have much of a childhood." Draco swallowed and looked away, ashamed.  
  
"Don't feel guilty, Father. It wasn't your fault." But Draco could tell by Medea's tone of voice that she blamed him entirely.  
  
"Maybe if I was born to a Muggle family, I would have been a good girl."  
  
Draco spread his arms out to her and wrapped them around her thin frame tightly as she floated into them. She never seemed to walk, but float, like some sort of a living ghost. "Oh, Medea! To me, you are the best little girl as you are, cunning plans and all. And anyway, even without me teaching you anything, you would have learned on your own."  
  
"Yes, I suppose so," murmured Medea into her father's chest.  
  
"Oh, but I know! I raised you with the kind of power that a child is never raised with. Nobody can beat you, Medea. Nobody ... '' ~~~  
  
Notes:  
  
This is the way that I picture Medea. Just go to www.artmagick.com and on the top of the page click search. Then put in the name of the portrait.  
  
For Medea: The Lady Clare Click on first title. Double click if you want to see it larger. 


End file.
